Seasons of Beauty
by LilacSoul
Summary: A young boy's search for beauty, and the 4 gems that fill his collection, or is it the boy himself the most stunning gem of all?
1. Chapter 1: Spring

**Author's Note : **I'd like to say hello, and thank you for reading this work. I'm new to this fanfiction writing, so I hope you'll be satisfied with this fic. Please kindly overlook any mistakes.

**Disclaimer : **I do not own any of the characters presented in this work. They rightfully belong to Yana Toboso.

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A hint of sunlight here, a dash of warm breeze there, and the blossom of spring was already at full bloom.

The scent, the energy, the _essence_ of spring lingered in the atmosphere, dispersed, swam, drifted and clung to the various colours, to the roadside flowers, to the flock of wild birds that grace the azure empyrean with blessings from foreign grounds, seeking the warmth that has provisionally bid their motherland adieu.

And it was as if the universe was born again.

The fair youth of whom adolescence has recently dawned upon sat atop one of the numerous benches that surrounded the academy grounds, Barrie's _Peter Pan_ lay open on his lap. From some distance away, the resonant quality of a laughter drift towards his ears. _Mellifluous, silvery. _He looked up from the book.

Not very far away, a small circle of students was gossiping and laughing. Amidst the group, one particular individual stood out to the fair adolescent. _Oh yes, precisely_, thought the adolescent, he had found what he was looking for. This is **spring**_._

The brilliant sunlight has beautifully gilded the boy's hair, the golden strands dancing with the slight wind. His eyes were two drops of the spring azure, clear and bright, mirroring the sky above. The pinkish colour of the enchanting wild roses adorned his fair, slightly round cheeks. His laughter was like the sound of small ringing bells.

The epitome, the embodiment, the _soul_ of spring. He has found it. _The Butterfly_.

The spring Butterfly approached him one day.

He flopped down to the bench next to the fair adolescent, and spoke:

"That's one fair book you're reading.", he commented.

The fair adolescent smiled vaguely, gave no reply, and continued reading.

The Butterfly grinned, and continued:

"My name's Alois. What's yours?"

This time, the adolescent slowly closed his book, looked up at Alois' grinning face, and replied:

" Ciel. Ciel Phantomhive."

Alois whistled softly, and stated, with a playful tone:

"What a name! And the way you pronounced it…You have French origin or something?"

Ciel chuckled politely: "Ah, not quite, my uncle lived his whole life in France you see…"

"Oh….", Alois scratched his chin thoughtfully, "Say, speaking of French, I noticed we have French class together, right? I saw you several times, and the teacher always praised your excellent command of the language."- he imitated the French teacher's accent, which made Ciel laughed.

Alois laughed with him: "I've always been a sucker at French, darn language, so many 'r's, like, don't the Frenchmen have anything more productive to do than sit there all day and invent ways to pronounce 'r'?"

At that moment, the bell rang. Alois moaned exasperatedly: "Speak of the devil and he shall come, French period, on the menu". He picked up his bag, stood up, and turned towards Ciel, "Hey, you coming with me?"

Ciel put the book into his bag and got to his feet, "Sure, why not?" He smiled.

Alois grinned back, his white row of ivory teeth gleamed in the sunlight, like the pearly wings of the small butterflies that often escorted the flower bushes around the academy. He then grabbed Ciel by the arm, and walked rapidly across the academy grounds, saying cheerfully: "Then let's make haste, Monsieur Phantomhive, cuz' I don't want Professeure Jacques barking at my face for being late"

Smiling, Ciel allowed himself to be led by Alois. The two figures quickly disappeared in the cluster of pupils that thronged the student hall.

Normally, Ciel would like to indulge himself more with this beauty, but he knew Spring was a season of birth, of friendship, of playfulness. Spring has no room for ferocious passions, so he did not make any advances on Alois. He felt he would mar the beauty of the season if he tampered any further, and that would be unthinkable. No, butterflies must be preserved to remain true to their nature. Butterflies never linger long to one blossom. Flit and flutter, that is what butterflies do best. It is a sin for any blossom to try trapping a butterfly in its clutches. It is a sin to nature. A sin to originality. And originality, in Ciel's opinion, is beauty. A against beauty is a sin against the universe itself.

They remained close amigos. They were not always in harmony, in fact, hardly ever. Alois was ever the boisterous creature, always ready to participate in absurd pranks, make crude jokes, spare no laughter at seemingly ordinary conduct, boasts of his promiscuous lifestyle and enjoyed very much agitating the more reserved and uptight ("tight-arsed", as Alois would often describe) companion.

Once or twice, Alois would make advances on Ciel. They were too slight to be construed as passionate libido, but too apparent to be brushed aside as unintended physical contact.

And Ciel would always recoils, resists politely, elegantly, adroitly, with a skill frequently being perfected during the course of his entire life.

It is a sin for any butterfly to linger too long on one blossom.

Spring was not a season for prolonged attachments.

But Alois, owing to his whimsical and volatile nature, was only slightly demoralised by Ciel's apt rejection.

Spring was neither a season for desperation nor disheartenment.

With regard to the _beauty_ of Alois – as the epitome of Spring – Ciel mostly overlooked his mischievous conduct.

He did not wince when Alois sent the Math Professor to the infirmary with several sharp needles sunken into his behind when he attempt to sit down on his chair, glued with said needles arranged neatly in the pattern of a tongue. This was an aftermath of Alois' annoyance at the Professor's threat to call his parents for his unenviable math grade.

He did not wince at the sight of Alois, small, delicate Alois, knocking the stars out of another schoolmate, because, quoting Alois, with a most enraged expression, he took the last portion of curry bread in the lunch cafeteria. But his anger faded immediately, as he picked up the dazed schoolboy from the ground, grinned widely, patted the bruised boy on the back, led him to the infirmary, and as he went, chattered gaily: "I'm Alois. Let's be friends. You like curry bread? So do I. Man, your cheek bones are sharp, my fingers are hurting real bad…"

Nor did he wince, when Alois dug his fingers and pulled the eye out of the socket of one of the maids at his mansion, when Alois invited Ciel to visit for their terminal spring break, for she accidentally poured some tea onto Ciel's shirt at the sitting room. What was her name? Anna? Hannah. Hannah Annafellows. Ciel did think it was quite a pity. She had such attractive eyes. But everything had a price. A sacrifice of one thing must be made for the equivalent gain of the other. Ciel merely asked Alois to show him the way to the bathroom, at which Alois happily escorted him.

One may be appalled. Spring holds no regards for cruelty.

But it is a fact that many has forgotten. A fact that all things in the universe are connected.

That all seasons are connected.

And that Spring was never free from the influence of Winter.

For when the seeds of Spring were buried deeply in the ground, peacefully asleep as Winter roamed the lands, the harshness of Winter did not fail to infiltrate the earth, and seep into the slumbering seeds, tainting them.

When their time of dawn arisen, the seeds sprung from their hibernation, and bloomed into beautiful flowers. The newborns of the universe.

They were innocent and playful and sweet, but they also harnessed the bits of depravity, the malice of Winter.

Every Spring is as described. There exists no exception. This is the quality of originality. And originality is beauty. A breach of this originality is a sin committed against beauty. A sin against beauty is a sin against the universe itself.

That is why Ciel has chosen Alois in the first place. The volatile butterfly, too carefree to even recognise, let alone hide, his dark sides. The sheer _beauty_.

"…_and every spring-cleaning time, except when he forgets, Peter comes for Margaret and takes her to the Neverland, … When Margaret grows up she will have a daughter, who is to be Peter's mother in turn; and so it will go on, so long as children are gay and innocent and heartless."_

- J.M Barrie's _Peter Pan_ -

One may proceed to correct me.

It is not Ciel who chose Alois, one might argue, it is Alois who came to Ciel in the first place.

Then, a coincidence, perhaps?

In life, there is no such thing as coincidence. Everything happens for a reason.

So how did Alois come to Ciel, voluntarily, without Ciel having to break a sweat?

_ How did the blossom succeeded in attracting the butterfly without even trying?_

Such is the beauty of Ciel Phantomhive.

[TBC]


	2. Chapter 2: Summer

**Author's Note: **This chapter contains **CielxLizzie. **I intended to write 4 chapters, the third chapter will contain **CielxClaude **and the fourth one **CielxSebastian. **Yeah, I know it sounds kind of wild and complicated, but oh well….

**Warning: **Contains major character death (well sort of).

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any mentioned characters. They all rightfully belong to Yana Toboso.

I'm not focussing on the description of scenery in this chapter (yes, hurray, hurray), simply because I don't really know how to create a poetic description of summer (the heat, the Heat, the HEAT...). Cheers.

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"_Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?__  
__Thou art more lovely and more temperate:"_

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She approached him as the sultriness of summer ascended the academy grounds.

He was not supprised.

_They always come to him, the muses…_

"That is _Shakespeare's Sonnets_, correct?" Her crisp, mellow voice seems to intertwine, to melt into the atmospheric heat.

Ciel slowly looked up from the book in his lap, his eyes drank in the sight of the female pupil who had proceeded to sat down on the bench beside him.

A luminous smile was settled upon her cherry lips.

Said lips thus began to blew an impish lock of hair that has so impudently broken free from the restraints – the two ribbons that tied her flow of golden strands of summer lights into bunches – until it fell behind her delicate ears.

Her stream of curly locks holds the colour resembling that of Alois' hair, but Ciel did not mind this.

Because all seasons are connected.

"Accurate observation." Ciel provided a mild answer, followed with a fleeting smile in return.

The girl in turn laughed softly, provissionally because it is her nature to do so. Very well-tempered.

As she laughed, her eyes squinted, the two drops of emerald shone ever so beautifully.

"I hope you won't take this as an insult", she continued, "But you seem to read so frequently, I'd thought great works like this wouldn't be new to you"

Ciel smiled faintly, dropping his lids: "You see, some works are just meant to be reread again and again. They are immortal."

The girl laughed again: "Yes, you are completely right." She held out her hand: "I'm Elizabeth Middleford, but please call me Lizzie"

"I'm Ciel, Ciel Phantomhive", he held out his own hand to shake hers, but was immediately taken abback, for Elizabeth, instead of shaking his hand, decided to grace him with a big hug and squeezed his form until he felt he was being strangled alive.

"I hope we'll be good friends, Ciel!" She chattered gaily while "hugging" Ciel.

He was right, she was _very _well-tempered, perhaps a little too much.

They became friends.

"CIELLLLL!"

Lizzie's now high-pitched tone penetrated through the crowed of students that is pouring out of classes at the notion of the bell ringing.

Ciel almost dropped his books, but he needn't have worried about the books, for immeadiately afterwise, Lizzie came to him (like a tornado) with her arms outstretched and her green eyes shining of delight and affection.

He was strangled alive. Again.

"Elizabeth…let me…go…" He managed to wheeze through her clutches.

Elizabeth reluctantly loosened her arms, accompanied with a "I told you to call me Lizzie, Ciel!"

To Ciel's horror, she proceeded to (violently) pinched his cheeks "You are really so cute, Ciel dear, just like a kitten" She mused loudly.

He did not comprehend the possibility of such a comparison, but he did not question it. "Don't describe me that way, Lizzie, it's embarassing…And people are watching."

She did not seem to mind the complaint, but continued gleefully: "Listen, Ciel. There's this new boutique shop down the street, and the clothes there are soooo adorable, why don't you accompany me there this afternoon, please Ciel, please?"

He found no other alternative but to agree to the proposition. He did not want to be strangled to death just yet.

For probably the first time in his life, Ciel did not understand his _muse_.

He did his research. It appeared to him that Elizabeth was a year his senior, and passed the entrance test to the academy with top score. He discovered her impressive past accomplishments. These ranged from poetry to music and fencing. Her parents were the Head of the Royal Knights of the Queen, Marquis Middleford and his wife, Machioness Middleford.

How could a girl from such a distinguished background, who apparently received rigorous education and training from an early age, exposed such childish and ignorant demeanor? Yes, there was definitely something that triggered this pattern of behavior, Ciel concluded.

On a summer afternoon, Elizabeth sat with Ciel on a park bench and with a quiet, almost compliant attitude, unlike her usual boisterous nature, she told him about her family.

On that same summer afternoon, Ciel discovered the missing puzzle to his muse.

Her mother, the respectable Machioness Frances Middleford was a woman of severe perception. She believed in scrupulous methods of education towards her children, of whom she was very expectant of. These rigid and harsh approach to physical and mental training was not only applied to her eldest son, the Heir to Middleford Estate, Edward Middleford, but also to her second daughter, Elizabeth.

"The other girls of my age would read nursery rhymes and play dolls and wear pretty clothes" Elizabeth spoke wistfully, "While Mother made me study by heart those voluminous Latin poems, and would give fencing practices until my legs and arms are so bruised, I was sore for days…"

Ciel remained quiet in his thoughts, while Elizabeth continued: "At times, I could no longer contain my anguish and would appose to her harsh ways, she would then slap me and declared me a disgrace. She declared that as a Middleford, I must comply by these trainings." Her voice then became shaky: "You must understand, Ciel, I love Mother unconditionally, but her methods of education I could not stand."

Ciel hugged her lightly, hoping that he could calm her down. Elizabeth hugged him back, then she let go of her arms, pushed Ciel's shoulders with her arms, and with a much more composed and gleeful expression, she chirped : "But then Mother sent me to the Academy, away from those horrible trainings, and I met you, Ciel. Freedom is so incredibly sweet!"

"Listen, Ciel, I found a club recently opened near the Academy, and Mother have never let me go to one, but I heard it's really awesome, I don't think it's practically legal for us to go to a night club, but we'll find our way in, right Ciel?"

This time, he agreed to her proposition without any second thought. He had understood this beauty of Summer brimed within her. He would proceed to endulge in it.

The Summer Bird, eloped from her cage, spreaded her wings and flew to the summer sun of freedom.

The _essence _of Summer. The flight.

Freedom is indeed the sweetest thing.

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"_And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer."_

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__ He sat in a dark corner of the night club as he watched Elizabeth flourished on the dance floor. The multicoloured lights of the club seemed to decorate her beauty, bathed her in an illusory hallo that no sunlight could imitate, curving the lines in her eyes as she swept through the dance floor, albeit quite clumsily, for she was moderately befuddled, but with a such a natural ease and elegance to it, that her body movements emanated such beauty.

Ciel felt that the soul of summer was enliven through her.

Summer was an elopement from restrictive boundaries, a flight, the act of letting go of everything and reached towards freedom of the mind, the soul, the body.

Summer is a season for passionate satiation, and that is the reason why Ciel decided to leave the dark corner where he was resting, approached the dissolute Elizabeth, embraced her, and kissed her ardently. He yearned for a taste of that summer beauty.

Elizabeth kissed him back.

And that night, Ciel felt the elixir of passion, of lust, of self-indulgence, of Summer disseminated within him, kindled his senses afire as they became one.

And the summer heat between her thighs has never been so intense.

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"_Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,__  
__And summer's lease hath all too short a date:__  
__Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,__  
__And too often is his gold complexion dimm'd:"_

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And the summer wine and the dancing lights and the unrestraint movements and the heated moans and the desperate gropes and the wanton kisses… The summer luxuries all melted into an endless waterfall, falling, ever falling deeper and deeper into the pits of pleasure.

But Ciel understood that although summer is beautiful for its wild extravagance, anything of excessive quantities is bound to meet its downfall.

For life to exists, the universe must be preserved in a state of perfect harmony.

Yin and Yang.

Any entities who breaks this harmony will not subsist.

Ciel understood this. Elizabeth, however, did not.

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"_I hope she'll be a fool - that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool."_

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As he stood at the funeral under the sombre sky, he watched as the last ray of summer departed the atmosphere. And as the undertaker lowered the white coffin containing the beautiful young girl into the earth six feet below, he whispered into the ears of his butler: "It may be true that the beauty of summer had forever left her body, but that beauty will forever remained in her soul. And though her mortal shell returned to earth from which it belong, her soul will reside eternally in the Summertime Heaven. Her beauty will last until the end of time, my dear beloved Lizzie."

When the undertaker proceeded to burry the six feet deep mouth of the earth, in the bereaved sobbings of Elizabeth's brother, and the solemny of her mother's face, Ciel thought he could still smell the faint scent of alcohol disintergrating from the earth below where she was burried. He concluded it must be hallucination.

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"_By thy eternal summer shall not fade,__  
__Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;__  
__Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,__  
__When in eternal lines to time thou growest:"_

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Yes, beauty lies in harmony. The harmony between the soul and the body.

Even if beauty should neglect the body, as long as the soul can suffice for that quality of beauty, it shall be enough.

Ciel understood this. Anyone who truly appreciates beauty will understand this.

Such is the beauty of Ciel Phantomhive.

"_So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,__  
__So long lives this and this gives life to thee."_

The quotes from this chapter are extracts from _Shakespeare's Sonnets _by William Shakespeare, and _The Great Gatsby _by Fitzgerald.

[TBC]


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